


Drown In It

by dracoqueen22



Series: Number One Crush [11]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Deep Intake Penetration, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Twincest, gagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sideswipe likes to go deep. Ratchet wants to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. And Sunstreaker arrives just in time to get dragged into depravity. All in all, business as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sideswipe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could do this. He wanted to do this. The idea of Ratchet taking him so thoroughly, claiming him, it made heat shoot through his frame like a flash fire.

“You're sure you want to do this?”  
  
Sideswipe's ventilations hitched. “Yeah, I'm sure,” he said, and he dropped to his knees, licking his lips. “Come on, Ratch. I promise it's gonna be good.”  
  
Ratchet rolled his optics. “That's not my concern. You pushing yourself too far in an endless pursuit of the perfect pleasure high is what worries me.”  
  
“I won't get hurt. You won't let me get hurt. I know you won't.” His rush of words betrayed his eagerness, his desire. He couldn't admit aloud how long he'd been thinking about this, about trying it.  
  
Ratchet rested his hands on Sideswipe's head, tilting him up so that he had to look into Ratchet's optics. “I won't let you get hurt. But I can't stop you from hurting yourself.”  
  
Sideswipe put his hands on Ratchet's thighs, sliding them toward Ratchet's panel, which was scorching beneath his fingertips. Objections aside, it was clear Ratchet wanted to try this. His field buzzed against Sideswipe's, his optics bright with need. He was never good at saying 'no' when there was pleasure to be had.  
  
“I won't,” Sideswipe promised. He licked his lips again, oral cavity damp with lubricant. He was so ready for this. “So are you sure you can do this, or should I get Sunny to let me do it instead?”  
  
“I can do it, brat.” Ratchet swept his thumbs over Sideswipe's cheeks and then sat back on the chair, spreading his legs further so that Sideswipe could fit between them. “Besides, Sunstreaker lets you get away with too much.”  
  
“You both do,” Sideswipe teased. He nudged forward on his knees, hands sliding until they curled around Ratchet's hips.  
  
He rubbed his right cheek against Ratchet's heated panel. He inhaled greedily, tasting Ratchet's arousal with his chemoreceptors. He licked the hot metal and moaned as his oral fluid sizzled. His lines tingled. His own components throbbed. Oh, Primus.  
  
Ratchet made a strangled sound above him. His hands twitched where they rested on his own thighs.  
  
“You...” Ratchet paused, rebooted his vocalizer. “You have my comm. And you're going to use it.”  
  
“I'm going to use it,” Sideswipe murmured. He pressed a kiss to Ratchet's panel and felt the soft metal dome beneath his lips. “Now let your spike free before it punches through your panel.”  
  
Ratchet's cooling fans rattled to life. “It's not that hard,” he muttered, but he obeyed and his spike surged free.  
  
Sideswipe quickly caught it in his mouth, sucking immediately on the head. He moaned as the taste of Ratchet filled his mouth, something undefinable but still distinctly Ratchet. Older metals, and standard polish, and lubricant. It slid over his glossa, pre-transfluid sticky-sweet as it trickled down his intake.  
  
Ratchet made another noise. His hands scrubbed his thighs. “You're going to kill me.”  
  
Sideswipe smirked around the spike in his mouth and took Ratchet deeper. He sucked and licked at Ratchet's spike, feeling every throb of Ratchet's spark pulse, swallowing trickle after trickle of pre-fluid. He trembled from excitement, so ready to do this.  
  
He trusted Ratchet.  
  
A red hand landed on his head. The weight was warm, present.  
  
“You ready, brat?” Ratchet asked, his ventilations huffed.  
  
Sideswipe rolled his optics to look up at Ratchet and winked. He scraped his denta gently against Ratchet's spike, knowing how much Ratchet loved it.  
  
Ratchet shuddered, his hips rolling incrementally forward. Ratchet licked his lips, fingers tightening around Sideswipe's head.  
  
“Gonna die just like this,” Ratchet muttered, half in jest, before his other hand found Sideswipe's head.  
  
Both were there now, like unforgiving weights or restraints. Ratchet shifted again, legs spreading a few more inches. He rolled his hips, pushing deeper into Sideswipe's mouth. The head of his spike briefly greeted the back of Sideswipe's intake.  
  
Sideswipe, too, shifted, rising a little higher on his knees. His hands pressed hard to Ratchet's backstrut, fingers hooking on transformation seams. Sideswipe moaned, the vibrations rattling against Ratchet's spike.  
  
The medic muttered a curse under his intake. He tugged on Sideswipe's head, inching him further forward, his spikehead pressing a little harder against Sideswipe's intake.  
  
Sideswipe swallowed. He felt oral fluid leak out around his lips. He cycled a ventilation and focused. He could do this. He wanted to do this. The idea of Ratchet taking him so thoroughly, claiming him, it made heat shoot through his frame like a flash fire.  
  
He experimentally tried to lift his head, but Ratchet's hands were firm. They didn't move. They kept him pinned, and then they pushed ever so slightly. They pushed and Sideswipe relaxed, relented. He shifted, tilted, rose higher, and the last third of Ratchet's spike slid into Sideswipe's intake.  
  
Sensors went haywire. Sideswipe moaned as his frame tried to reject the foreign object, but Ratchet's hands kept him from moving backward. His intake rippled, seizing, tight around the head of Ratchet's spike. He produced more oral lubricant. Capacity warnings screeched at him.  
  
Ratchet's ventilations blasted heat. His engine roared. He made another sound, another muttered curse, but it was noise to Sideswipe's audials. He shook beneath Sideswipe, his spike throbbing mercilessly.  
  
“Just… just a little bit more. Okay, Sides?” Ratchet asked as his fingers flexed.  
  
Sideswipe worked his intake. Again and again. His fingers tugged harder on Ratchet's transformation seams. All he could taste was Ratchet. All he could see and smell was Ratchet.  
  
_“Do it_ ,” he transmitted, both to prove that he was fine, and to prove that he would if he needed.  
  
Ratchet groaned. His thighs shook, his frame radiated heat. He cycled a ventilation, another, and then he pushed one last time.  
  
Sideswipe whined as the last inch sank into his mouth, and he could taste Ratchet's root with his lips. He diverted his oral ventilations as his intake was blocked by Ratchet's throbbing spike, which seemed much larger as it pulsed within his mouth.  
  
Sideswipe's intake rippled, trying to reject the intruder, but Ratchet's hands were firm. Ratchet kept him there as he panted above Sideswipe. His field was open, static heat and need.  
  
Oral lubricant soaked the space around Ratchet's array. All Sideswipe could see was Ratchet's armor, all he could feel was Ratchet in his mouth, down his intake. All he could hear was Ratchet's moans, his gasps, his sighs of pleasure. Ratchet trembled in the effort to hold himself back, when it was clear all he wanted to do was thrust, take Sideswipe's mouth as though it belonged to him.  
  
More warnings cropped up. Sideswipe dismissed them. His own array pulsed need at him. His spike swelled within the housing; his valve slickened, lubricant pooling at his panel. His hips twitched, and he had to keep his grip on Ratchet to stop from reaching down and stroking himself.  
  
Ratchet held him firmly. His hips moved, so incrementally it was barely registered. He pulled back just enough to gain some room to move, before he slid back down Sideswipe's intake again. His spike rubbed along Sideswipe's glossa as all Sideswipe could do was kneel there and let Ratchet use him.  
  
He tried to suck, to tease, to lash Ratchet's spike with his glossa. But there was little room to work with Ratchet's spike deep down his intake, pushing past sensor after sensor that kept telling Sideswipe of a foreign body.  
  
His ventilations quickened. He moaned around Ratchet's spike, his vocalizer little more than static. He could tell Ratchet was already close, that he'd been riding the hard edge of overload from the moment he rooted himself in Sideswipe's mouth.  
  
“ _Do it_ ,” Sideswipe said over the comm again. “ _Come on, Ratch. Frag me harder. Make me take it._ ”  
  
Ratchet growled. His hands tightened. His hips jerked a little harsher, rubbing Sideswipe's intake with a bit more force. His spike swelled and static crept out of his array, snapping at Sideswipe's lips and nasal ridge.  
  
It didn't hurt. Sideswipe knew it wouldn't. It wasn't comfortable. His intake kept trying to reject Ratchet. It rippled and convulsed. His tank squeezed as though threatening to purge. His ventilations became faster and faster.  
  
It was the best kind of torture.  
  
Because Ratchet groaned his name. Ratchet's hands shook. He blasted heat down on Sideswipe. His spike twitched and throbbed and swelled. More pre-fluid seeped down Sideswipe's intake, and he tried to swallow, but all it did was drip down, down, down toward his convulsing tank.  
  
Sideswipe loved every minute of it. He loved feeling so claimed, so wanted, so taken. He loved knowing that he had dissolved Ratchet into wordless noises, into struggling to maintain control. He loved knowing that he was the one on his knees, but Ratchet was at his mercy.  
  
“S-Sides….” Ratchet broke off into another groan. He hunched forward, his hands inadvertently pushing Sideswipe harder against his groin.  
  
Sideswipe moaned as his face pressed to Ratchet's plating. His nasal ridge mashed against Ratchet's groin. His intake contracted and once again, Sideswipe dismissed the warnings.  
  
He pressed hard against Ratchet's back and leveraged his weight against his knees, shoving himself forward. His lips smushed against Ratchet's charged cables, feeling the bite of them against the dermal metal.  
  
Ratchet's sucked in a sharp ventilation. He growled, deep and low. His hips jerked as his spike twitched in Sideswipe's mouth. His hands pulled, though there was no way for Sideswipe to possibly take him deeper.  
  
“I'm gonna… Sides, I'm gonna--” Ratchet's warning cut off on a cry as he tossed his head back and overloaded, his spike pulsing as it spilled wave after wave of transfluid down Sideswipe's intake.  
  
He felt the splatter of it against sensitive internal components. His intake flexed, trying to reject the intruder. Sideswipe's ventilations coughed in secondary warning, but he held on as Ratchet's pleasure crashed over him.  
  
Even better when Ratchet pushed him away at the last moment, his spike ripping free of Sideswipe's mouth. His hands remained, gripping Sideswipe's head, keeping him aimed so that the last few spurts of transfluid striped Sideswipe's face. One ropey strand crossed his lips, and Sideswipe licked them, shivering as he finally got to taste Ratchet's transfluid.  
  
“Oh, Primus.” Ratchet sagged forward, his hands sliding from Sideswipe's head to his shoulders. “You're going to be the death of me.”  
  
Sideswipe grinned. “But what a way to go, yeah?” he said, or tried to anyway. His vocalizer spat a little more static, his intake angrily sending several messages.  
  
He grimaced and rubbed at his intake. It didn't hurt, not any kind of real pain, but it did twinge a bit.  
  
“Hurt?”  
  
Sideswipe shook his head, not that it mattered since Ratchet's scan hit him seconds later, as he knew it would.  
  
“Just a little bruised,” Ratchet said as he straightened, his cooling fans still whirring, though his spike had depressurized.  
  
Sideswipe's mouth filled with lubricant at the sight of it. He wouldn't mind another go-round, maybe this time start from the beginning, teasing Ratchet slowly to pressurization before taking him deep again.  
  
“You're amazing, you know that?” Ratchet asked as one hand lifted, fingers tracing around Sideswipe's face, though careful to avoid the splatters of lubricant.  
  
Sideswipe preened. “ _Of course I am_.” His other hand dropped to his panels, where a bare touch had them springing aside, spike surging free and a flood of lubricant slicking his thighs. “ _Wanna return the favor?_ ”  
  
“You know that I do.” Ratchet's finger swept up a cooling glob of transfluid and painted it across Sideswipe's lips. “But since this is your game, you're going to have to tell me how you want to play it?”  
  
Sideswipe grinned, glossa flicking over his lips to clean them. “ _Sunny's gonna be mad he missed this_ ,” he said as he stroked his spike, his other hand moving to his valve as he pushed his knees further apart. He toyed with his node, a shiver racing down his spinal strut.  
  
Ratchet chuckled. “Then we'll just have to make it up to him.” His finger continued to trace over Sideswipe's lips, his optics darkening with lust all over again. “So tell me, Sideswipe, how do you want me?”  
  
Sideswipe's ventilations stuttered.  
  
Oh, if he could count the ways.


	2. Ratchet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratchet licked his lips. He had half an inkling of what Sideswipe wanted from him.

Ratchet shivered as Sideswipe's grin widened, no less salacious for the transfluid striping his face and the obvious puffiness to his lips.   
  
Sideswipe rose to his pedes and looked Ratchet over. Two fingers tapped his lips as he tilted his head.   
  
“How about,” he purred with a flick of his glossa over his lips, though it still came out ringed in static. His vocalizer probably needed a hard reboot. “You lay on the floor for me.”   
  
“We do have a berth,” Ratchet pointed out with a grunt. But he leveraged himself out of the chair and sank to his knees on the floor.   
  
“But it's more fun this way.” Sideswipe wiggled a finger at him. “On your back, Ratch. I have an idea.”   
  
_I have an idea._   
  
That was pretty much how it always started.   
  
_I have an idea. I saw something on the internet. I read a book. I saw it in a magazine._ And nine times out of ten, Sideswipe found it through the humans.   
  
Ratchet really needed to look into getting some kind of Safe Search feature. One that Sideswipe couldn't hack his way around.   
  
Nevertheless, he obeyed. Because Sideswipe's ideas always led to overloads, even if they did start out undignified.   
  
Ratchet stretched out on the floor, knees drawn up for comfort, and folded his arms behind his head. “There. Happy?”   
  
Sideswipe winked. “Always.”   
  
He straddled Ratchet's frame, but facing Ratchet's pedes rather than his head, and planted his aft on Ratchet's belly. And what a fine aft it was. Ratchet couldn't help but touch it, slide his fingers over the curves, especially when Sideswipe wriggled it at him.   
  
Sideswipe scooted backward until his aft planted on Ratchet's windshield. His panels were already open, Ratchet noticed, and Sideswipe left a streak of lubricant as he moved.   
  
They'd both need a wash after this.   
  
Ratchet licked his lips. He had half an inkling of what Sideswipe wanted from him. His hands cradled Sideswipe's hips.   
  
Until Sideswipe bent forward and ex-vented wetly over Ratchet's half-pressurized spike. It twitched beneath the damp heat, and Ratchet had to swallow down a startled noise.   
  
“Mm,” Sideswipe said with another wriggle of his hips. “What do ya say, Ratch? Wanna eat me out while I suck you off again?”   
  
Eat? There he went again with that fragging human vernacular.   
  
Ratchet rolled his optics, hooked his fingers on Sideswipe's hips, and jerked him back. Metal slid on metal. Sideswipe's knees hit the floor as his thighs framed Ratchet's head, his uncovered valve blinking at Ratchet in greeting. His spike bobbed free, the tip of it rubbing on Ratchet's windshield.   
  
“Do what you want,” Ratchet said as he stroked his hands across the planes of Sideswipe's aft. His mouth watered at the sight of Sideswipe's array, plush and inviting, dewy with lubricant and the anterior node already swollen and bright.   
  
Sideswipe chuckled. “I always do,” he purred and flattened on top of Ratchet, curling his arms around the tops of Ratchet's thighs. His lips found the head of Ratchet's spike, planting a messy wet kiss upon it. “Wanna make it a challenge?”  
  
Ratchet groaned and pulled Sideswipe the last precious inches and directly onto Ratchet's lips. He nuzzled Sideswipe's valve, breathing in the rich scent of lubrication and arousal, before licking down the length of it, ending with a flick to Sideswipe's anterior node.   
  
Sideswipe made a strangled sound, his hips dancing down onto Ratchet's face. “I'll take it that's a no,” he said before he took his revenge, sucking Ratchet into his mouth, his glossa prodding at Ratchet's transfluid slit.   
  
Arousal tightened in Ratchet's belly. He moaned against Sideswipe's valve, pedes pressing hard against the ground as he struggled not to thrust up. The tip of Sideswipe's glossa played with the channel opening, far too broad to breach it, but just enough to tease. Damn if Sideswipe didn't know all the tricks to make him scream.   
  
But Ratchet knew a few, too.   
  
He traced the rim of Sideswipe's valve with his glossa, touching upon each sensor individually. He lapped gently at the plush rim, and let his bottom denta scrape against Sideswipe's anterior node.  
  
The red warrior shivered above him. His hips rolled down, riding the motions of Ratchet's lips and glossa. He moaned and redoubled his efforts on Ratchet's spike. Not that it mattered. His valve fluttered against Ratchet's lips, lubricant pulsing out near-faster than Ratchet could swallow.   
  
He'd been riding the hard edge of overload since Ratchet first decided to let Sideswipe attempt (and apparently succeed) at deep intake penetration.   
  
Sideswipe's biolights were pulsing in rapid succession. His hips kept juttering forward, his spike leaving eager streaks on Ratchet's windshield. Ratchet could hear the shift-twitch of his internal calipers as they clutched on nothing. Sideswipe's engine raced, revving to the beat of Ratchet's glossa as it lapped at him again and again.   
  
Sideswipe trembled above him. Ratchet smirked against his valve. He slid one hand over Sideswipe's aft and shifted it so that his thumb could rub against the base of Sideswipe's valve, teasing the sensitive mesh. Ratchet focused his attention on Sideswipe's nub, drawing it between his lips and giving it a suck.   
  
Sideswipe outright moaned. His hands tightened on Ratchet's thighs, the vocalization vibrating around Ratchet's spike. He sucked at the head, glossa lashing the transfluid slit. Warmth flooded Ratchet's array, but lucky him, he was nowhere near overload.   
  
Meanwhile, Sideswipe's thighs trembled. His field rose and fell in steady waves, bursts of bright need. His mouth stalled around Ratchet's spike, as he rolled his array against Ratchet's mouth, searching for that overload.   
  
It was time for Ratchet's secret weapon.   
  
“ _Next time_ ,” Ratchet sent over the comm as he teased the nub with his denta and soothed the scrapes with his glossa, “ _We'll let Sunstreaker watch. And once I'm done making you drink my transfluid, Sunstreaker will get his turn_.”   
  
Sideswipe whimpered. He swallowed, making Ratchet's spike bob in his mouth. “ _That's… that's not fair_ ,” he replied.   
  
More lubricant trickled out of his valve, sweet as it slid over Ratchet's glossa.   
  
“ _Yes, it is_ ,” Ratchet replied, his thumb pushing a firmer pattern at the edge of Sideswipe's valve as his glossa tasted the inside of his rim. “ _Because when it's Sunstreaker's turn, it'll still be me making sure you keep him deep. I'll make sure you swallow him and every last drop_.”   
  
Sideswipe's engine roared, vibrating both of their frames. His hips danced atop Ratchet, until he had to throw his arm across the base of Sideswipe's aft to keep him in place. Sideswipe gasped, Ratchet's spike falling from his mouth as he buried his face in Ratchet's armor.   
  
“Ratchet,” he whined, hips struggling to buck, his anterior node flashing faster and faster, his valve rim flexing and throbbing.   
  
He was almost there. He just needed another push.   
  
“ _You'll swallow him dry, and it'll be my turn again_ ,” Ratchet growled into the comm, his denta putting a pinching pressure on Sideswipe's node. “ _We'll just pass you back and forth between us, until our tanks run dry, and there's nothing in yours but our transfluid._ ”  
  
Ratchet latched onto Sideswipe's node and sucked, his thumb slipping into the clenching depths of Sideswipe's valve.   
  
The red menace howled, his hands pawing at Ratchet's thighs, his hips, his armor. His knees snapped against the floor. He made stuttered thrusts against Ratchet's windshield as his valve rode Ratchet's mouth. Lubricant pulsed out to the tune of Sideswipe's keening as he overloaded, his field whipping through the room in a frenzy of need.   
  
Transfluid spattered on Ratchet's windshield. Lubricant soaked his lips, his nasal ridge, his cheeks. Sideswipe made the sweetest sounds, the metal of Ratchet's thigh armor creaking beneath his grip. His aft bobbed and swayed in Ratchet's view, so enticing.   
  
Ratchet eased him through the final tremors, until Sideswipe collapsed on top of him, his frame twitching the last thrums of his release. He made happy moaning noises, nuzzling Ratchet's spike as he did.   
  
Ratchet let his head sink back against the floor, hands moving to pat the red menace's aft. His own frame thrummed, a gentle arousal lingering, but nothing that needed immediate attention.   
  
“That… that...” Sideswipe stuttered and rubbed his face against Ratchet's groin again. “When did you learn to talk like that?”   
  
Ratchet chuckled. “I've always known. You think you have the monopoly on kink, brat?”   
  
“No. I think the humans do,” Sideswipe retorted.   
  
Well. He probably had a point there.   
  
Ratchet grinned and stroked Sideswipe's aft again, admiring the soaked valve still on display for him. Biolights glowed dimly. Lubricant glistened around the damp components. He was so lovely.   
  
“Why do I always miss the fun parts?”   
  
Ratchet blinked and tilted his head back, looking up to see Sunstreaker standing there in the entry of the berthroom, hands folded over his chestplate. He arched one orbital ridge at them.   
  
“I would have expected this from Sideswipe,” Sunstreaker continued with a tilt of his head. “But I thought you knew better, Ratchet.”   
  
Ratchet huffed a ventilation. He patted a quick staccato on Sideswipe's aft. “You gonna stand there all night, or join us?”   
  
“Yeah,” Sideswipe said. He shifted so he could look over his shoulder, like the devil he was. “You gonna get down here with us or not?”   
  
Sunstreaker stared at them both, optics lingering on Sideswipe's array and Ratchet's lubricant-wet face.   
  
“Maybe I will,” Sunstreaker said with a slow curve of his lips. “Convince me.”


	3. Sunstreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of Sunstreaker didn't want to know. The other part of him – seeing his brother's dirtied face, the mess between his thighs, and the lust in Sideswipe's field – was intrigued.

Sunstreaker stared down at his lovers, unsurprised that he found them in a compromised and debauched state. Sideswipe seemed capable of convincing Ratchet of anything, it seemed.   
  
He tilted his head and looked at his brother. “What's that on your face?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.   
  
Sideswipe beamed, his glossa flicking over his lips. “Ratchet's transfluid,” he chirped. “Want some?”   
  
Ratchet laughed, and wasn't that a wonderful sound. “You're ridiculous.”  
  
Sunstreaker had to agree. “No, thank you,” he replied, surprised he could do it with a straight face.   
  
“Aw, come on.” Sideswipe pushed himself upright with his arms and then scooted forward, down the length of Ratchet's frame until he straddled Ratchet's hips, Ratchet's spike shadowed by his thighs. “It's pretty yummy.”   
  
Ratchet grunted and abruptly sat up, one arm going around Sideswipe's mid-section to keep him from falling forward, the other planted behind him to prop himself upright. His face was as messy as Sideswipe's, though his looked to be splattered with lubricant.   
  
“Yes,” Sunstreaker replied, with an arch of his orbital ridge. “I'm sure it is. But I prefer something like that to be fresh.”   
  
Sideswipe stared at him before he started snickering. His aft wiggled on Ratchet's lap as he clutched at Ratchet's arm. “Oooo, you're in a good mood, Sunny. Does that mean you're going to play with us?”   
  
Sunstreaker shook his head. “I'm not getting on the floor.” He had too much dignity for that. He thought Ratchet did, too.   
  
Ratchet tilted his head. “You don't have to.” Something wicked gleamed in his optics. “In fact, take about two steps forward and standing will do us just fine.”   
  
Sunstreaker folded his arms over his chestplate. “You have an idea?”   
  
Ratchet grinned. “I have an idea.” He shifted again, weight redistributing so that the hand bracing himself could move to pat Sideswipe's back. “Like showing you what Sides learned today.”   
  
“Ohhhh.” Sideswipe purred and leaned back, into Ratchet's embrace. “Just like you promised, Ratch.”   
  
Part of Sunstreaker didn't want to know.   
  
The other part of him – seeing his brother's dirtied face, the mess between his thighs, and the lust in Sideswipe's field – was intrigued. Sideswipe did seem to have the good ideas, even if he was a depraved little menace.   
  
“Come on over, Sunny,” Sideswipe said. He licked his lips, his optics bright with need. “I wanna taste ya.”   
  
Sunstreaker narrowed his optics, but obeyed, moving within reach. Sideswipe instantly lunged, grabbing onto his hips and dragging him the last few inches. He purred as he nuzzled Sunstreaker's panel, planting sloppy kisses over the heated metal.   
  
“Just what have you been teaching him?” Sunstreaker asked as he shivered.   
  
Ratchet chuckled and slid both arms around Sideswipe, his hands shifting down until they could caress Sideswipe's exposed equipment. Sideswipe moaned, leaning back into Ratchet's arms, his lower half wriggling excitedly.   
  
“To be fair, he asked for it,” Ratchet said as the fingers of one hand dipped into Sideswipe's valve, and his other hand curled around Sideswipe's spike. “You know how much your brother likes to push the limits.”   
  
Sideswipe licked a long swipe up Sunstreaker's panel. “I'm right here.”   
  
“Yes, you are.” Sunstreaker looked down at him. “And yet, you're not doing that good of a job, yet.”   
  
Sideswipe pouted playfully, a sheen to his optics that never failed to stir Sunstreaker's spark. He looked up at Sunstreaker and pressed his lips to Sunstreaker's panel again, while his glossa traced odd designs.   
  
“I could,” he purred. “If you'd just open for me.”   
  
Sunstreaker looked past him at Ratchet who nodded as he curled a third finger into Sideswipe's valve, making him shiver.   
  
“Fine,” Sunstreaker said. He allowed his panel to open, his spike surging free and his valve twitching at the rush of cool air over his sensitive components.  
  
Sideswipe hummed in his intake and then sucked Sunstreaker's spike into his mouth, swallowing half in one fell swoop. Sunstreaker groaned, his arms unfolding so that his hands could land on his brother's head.   
  
“I don't see what's so new about this,” Sunstreaker said, hoping to keep from giving in to Sideswipe's indecency. “He sucks spike all the time.”   
  
Ratchet chuckled. “He'll get there.” He grabbed Sideswipe's hips, and Sunstreaker knew the moment Ratchet sank into Sideswipe's valve, because they both shuddered and Sideswipe's engine gave a telling rev.   
  
Sideswipe moaned around Sunstreaker's spike and sucked him deeper, his glossa stroking along the underside of Sunstreaker's spike.   
  
Sunstreaker shivered. He did so enjoy Sideswipe's affection for oral pleasure. He was good at it, too. Not that Ratchet wasn't, because he was, but Sideswipe took a special enjoyment out of it.   
  
Ratchet kept one hand on Sideswipe's hips and the other rose, landing on the back of Sideswipe's head between Sunstreaker's own hands.   
  
“You see,” Ratchet said with a devious smirk that nearly rivaled Sideswipe's. “Your brother decided he wanted to learn deep intake penetration.”   
  
“Let me guess,” Sunstreaker drawled as Sideswipe moaned around his spike again. “He learned it from the humans.”   
  
Ratchet rolled his hips, pushing deeper into Sideswipe. “Of course he did,” he said, and his fingers flexed on Sideswipe's head. “Now hold still. Sideswipe, you ready?”   
  
Sideswipe purred around Sunstreaker's spike, his glossa stroking down the underside. Sunstreaker's engine rumbled, and his field filled with curiosity. He wasn't seeing anything new, to be honest.   
  
But then Ratchet pushed. It was subtle, not forceful, but he put a pressure on Sideswipe's head, pushing his face closer to Sunstreaker's panel. Sideswipe's mouth opened to Sunstreaker, taking his spike deeper.   
  
Sunstreaker's optics widened. He stared as Sideswipe swallowed him, as the head of his spike bumped the back of his brother's intake. And then Sideswipe shifted just slightly, leaned forward a tad, his fingers flexing on Sunstreaker's hips. He moaned around Sunstreaker's spike before Ratchet gave one last push, and Sunstreaker sank into Sideswipe's mouth, the head of his spike sliding down Sideswipe's intake.   
  
He could feel Sideswipe's intake rippling around his spike. He heard Sideswipe's ventilations hitch, his engine rev, but more than that, he felt Sideswipe trembling, the heat of his arousal, in his frame and field.   
  
“What the frag?” Sunstreaker breathed, his spike throbbing as the squeeze of Sideswipe's intake rippled around it.   
  
The sensation was wholly different than a valve. The rippling was inconsistent, but had a tighter grip. Sideswipe's mouth twitched around him, glossa pinned to the bottom of his mouth. Oral lubricant welled up, and Sideswipe swallowed, causing his intake to flex around Sunstreaker's spike again.   
  
That was… unexpectedly hot.   
  
Sideswipe's optics onlined, glowing brightly. He looked up at Sunstreaker, his lips stretched wide around the base of Sunstreaker's spike, his nasal ridge pressed to Sunstreaker's abdominal panel. His engine growled louder, his grip on Sunstreaker's hips tightened.   
  
“It's not… it's not...” Sunstreaker looked at Ratchet, who's smile was as devious as Sideswipe's.   
  
Ratchet kept his grip on the back of Sideswipe's head, but he started thrusting into Sideswipe's valve with short motions of his hips that pushed Sideswipe up and against Sunstreaker.   
  
“He's fine,” Ratchet grunted, his ventilations rapid. His optics were taking on that dark hue of arousal. “It's not gonna hurt him at all.”   
  
Sunstreaker's glossa swept over his lips. He stroked his hands over Sideswipe's head, enclosing his fingers over the sensitive finials and stroking them. Sideswipe's mouth tightened around him. His engine purred and his spike bobbed. It dripped pre-fluid steadily.   
  
Sunstreaker swallowed thickly and took a risk. He stroked Sideswipe's finials and then rolled his hips, thrusting ever so carefully into Sideswipe's mouth and down his intake. Primus, that felt good. His brother's intake twitched and rippled as though trying to force him back out, but Ratchet's grip – and admittedly Sunstreaker's own – kept Sideswipe from being able to back off.   
  
Sideswipe's field exploded with lust. It latched onto Sunstreaker's and dragged him down into the heat. If there had been any hesitation before, that evaporated. Sideswipe made a static sound between them, trapped on their spikes, completely taken.   
  
Oh, Primus.   
  
Sunstreaker's head dipped, his chin sinking down. His vents rattled, venting heat as arousal struck with all the force of a blaster shot. That was… what was…   
  
He pinched Sideswipe's finials again and rocked into Sideswipe's mouth, staying deep, but teasing the head of his spike against Sideswipe's inner tubing. He knew he'd made the right choice when Sideswipe started to squirm, when his fingers started tugging on Sunstreaker's hips as though determined to keep him deep.   
  
“That's it,” Ratchet purred and Sunstreaker's knees wobbled.   
  
He fragging loved it when Ratchet started talking. Sideswipe talking was pretty damn hot, too, cause he always said the dirtiest things that Sunstreaker shouldn't find enticing but somehow did. Ratchet, though.   
  
Sunstreaker gnawed on his lower lip, grip tightening on Sideswipe's finials.   
  
When Ratchet really got into it, he was a fragging menace. Worse than Sideswipe.  
  
“You're doing so good,” Ratchet said, his hand stroking the back of Sideswipe's head before it slipped down and then curled around, his fingers encircling Sideswipe's intake.   
  
“I can feel him in you, Sides,” he murmured and leaned against Sideswipe's back, purring into Sideswipe's audial. His fingers stroked the length of Sideswipe's intake. “Swallow for me?”   
  
Sideswipe shuddered, but he obeyed. Sunstreaker gasped as Sideswipe's intake rippled around him, and Sideswipe's field went all arousal-wobbly. His hands dug furrows into Sunstreaker's armor, enough that it creaked. His optical shutters fluttered, oral lubricant leaking out the corners of his mouth.   
  
“Good boy.” Ratchet's smirk turned positively wicked as he kept rocking into Sideswipe's valve as he stroked Sideswipe's intake. “Remember my promise? My turn. His turn. My turn again.”   
  
Sideswipe wriggled as little as he was able. His optical shutters slammed shut as he shivered.   
  
Ratchet chuckled and looked up at Sunstreaker. “I think he's thirsty,” he said, his glossa flicking over his lips. “Don't you think so, too?”   
  
“Primus, Ratchet,” Sunstreaker groaned and ground against Sideswipe's face, his lips, his spike working oh so deep.   
  
Sideswipe's intake spasmed around him. His fingers pulled harder, though Sunstreaker couldn't possibly go any deeper. His denta scraped against the dermal metal of Sunstreaker's spike, and Sunstreaker shivered. Arousal throbbed in his spark and his spike, charge in his lines, pulling him toward overload.   
  
“Mm.” Ratchet pushed harder into Sideswipe's valve, shoving Sideswipe harder against Sunstreaker's panel. His grip on Sideswipe's intake tightened, but it was enough for Sideswipe's engine to race loud enough to vibrate all three of them.   
  
Damn kinky fragger.   
  
“Are you going to give him what he wants, Sunny?” Ratchet asked, and his optics burned where they met Sunstreaker's. “That way I can feel when he swallows you.”   
  
Sideswipe made an unidentifiable noise. Sunstreaker's armor creaked.   
  
“I guess I have to,” Sunstreaker panted. His vents roared, and he honestly couldn't have held back if he tried.   
  
Not when Sideswipe's lips tightened ever so briefly at the base of his spike, and his hands tugged.   
  
“Would hate to disappoint,” Sunstreaker added, though it came out strangled.   
  
He gripped Sideswipe's finials as he rocked into Sideswipe's mouth with the smallest of motions. The look in Sideswipe's optics all but begged for it, as though he wanted it, because of course he did, the kinky fragger.   
  
“Please don't,” Ratchet purred and nuzzled his head against Sideswipe's, his fingers twitching around Sideswipe's intake. “Because I promised him we'd fill up his tank with transfluid tonight.”   
  
Sideswipe shivered.   
  
Sunstreaker ground out a strangled sound. The overload started in his pedes and rattled upward and outward. He yanked on Sideswipe's finials and spilled down Sideswipe's intake, spurt after spurt of transfluid. Sideswipe swallowed around him, but it wasn't like he had a choice.   
  
Sunstreaker staggered backward, his spike sliding free of Sideswipe's mouth, the last spurt landing on Sideswipe's cheek, criss-crossing with one of Ratchet's lingering stripes. Sunstreaker's vents wheezed. His knees wobbled. Sideswipe looked so gone, his lips swollen, his optics glazed, his face still painted in Ratchet's transfluid.   
  
Ratchet grabbed Sideswipe's hips with both hands. He dug his knees into the floor and started pounding into Sideswipe's valve, his hips slamming against Sideswipe's aft. Sideswipe made a whimpering noise, pawing at Sunstreaker's hips as he tried to match Ratchet's pace, and gave up, letting Ratchet frag him into next week.   
  
Sunstreaker's engine raced, and he dropped to his knees between one thrust and the next. Ratchet shoved Sideswipe against him, and Sideswipe clutched Sunstreaker's shoulders, panting desperately, his field sticky with need and charge lashing out from beneath his plating.   
  
His lips were swollen, hot, and Sunstreaker claimed them. Sideswipe more breathed against his mouth then kissed him and that was just fine. Sunstreaker worked a hand between their frames, grabbed Sideswipe's spike, and stroked him. Nothing gentle in it, just rough, desperate pulls.   
  
Sideswipe tossed his head back and wailed, his fingers digging into Sunstreaker's shoulders. He shook, top to bottom. He rode Ratchet's spike with single-minded determination, but it was still Ratchet who overloaded first, snarling as he grabbed Sideswipe's hips and sank deep.   
  
Sideswipe pawed at Sunstreaker, his field pleading, his hips jerking between Sunstreaker's fingers and Ratchet's spike. His engine revved into a higher pitch.   
  
Sunstreaker squeezed Sideswipe's spike, fisting him harder. He stole Sideswipe's lips, bit at them with his denta, hard enough to draw energon. Sideswipe moaned into his mouth, a pitiful, static-laced sound. He fell against Sunstreaker's front, clutching onto him, as he finally overloaded.   
  
Sideswipe's spike spurted, striping Sunstreaker's frame and dampening his fist. Behind him, Ratchet muttered some kind of curse, but it was lost to the roar of Sideswipe's cooling fans.   
  
Sideswipe slumped, his body twitching in the aftermath, his frame exuding heat. He made little happy noises as he nuzzled into Sunstreaker's intake, smearing the transfluid on his face against Sunstreaker's neck cables.   
  
Sunstreaker sighed. Sideswipe was damn lucky he was adorable in post-coital bliss.   
  
He looked past his twin at Ratchet. The medic loosened his hold on Sideswipe's hips, one hand patting Sideswipe's back as the other helped him disengage from Sideswipe's valve.   
  
“No,” Sideswipe moaned piteously, and tried to twitch his hips backward. “Keep it there.”   
  
“We need to get clean, Sides,” Sunstreaker said. “And get off the floor.” He shouldn't be so surprised that in the end, he wound up down here anyway.   
  
“No,” Sideswipe objected, still more static in his voice, and he nuzzled Sunstreaker's chestplate harder.   
  
Sunstreaker sighed again.   
  
Ratchet chuckled and patted Sideswipe's aft. He settled back into place, however, his half-pressurized spike nestled in Sideswipe's valve.   
  
“We can wait a few minutes,” he said.   
  
“Maybe you can,” Sunstreaker grumbled. But then Sideswipe made a little happy noise, and well, okay. Fine. A few minutes.   
  
“Well, I'm not saying I'm going to be able to get up easily, but I can manage,” Ratchet said with a shrug. “Besides, I'm not surprised.” He tilted his head. “I'll bet that if you put your fingers near his mouth, he'd suck on them right now.”   
  
“And get us started again?” Sunstreaker bit back a groan, and was tempted to sit on his hands so as not to listen because he was tempted. “Can't we move that to a berth?”   
  
Ratchet grinned. “Later.”   
  
Sunstreaker cycled a ventilation. “He's such a pain.”   
  
Sideswipe made a protesting noise, his arms encircling Sunstreaker. His field had calmed at least though. In fact, he looked of all things like he was about to slip into recharge!  
  
“Yes. But he's our pain.” Ratchet’s face was damn soppy when he looked at Sideswipe.  
  
Well, he had a point. Fragger could be pretty cute when he was quiet and snuggly.  
  
Sunstreaker gave up. He would deal with being on the floor. That just meant Sideswipe owed him a good scrub later. Ratchet, too.   
  
For now, snuggling it was.  
  
Oh, the horror.   
  


***


End file.
